


In the Snow

by flyfreewithme776



Category: Septimus Heap - Fandom
Genre: Dancing, F/M, First Kiss, Marcellus is pining, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:48:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27073729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyfreewithme776/pseuds/flyfreewithme776
Summary: Marcia and Marcellus share a first kiss in the snow.
Relationships: Marcia Overstrand/Marcellus Pye
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	In the Snow

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this forever ago and only just decided to post it for Heaptober on Tumblr. It’s ridiculously fluffy and probably out of character towards the end but oh well. Enjoy!

Music from the celebration inside drifted after Marcellus Pye as he stepped out into the Palace garden and closed the door behind him. He let out a breath as he leaned against the wall and gazed around at his surroundings. Although small and rather tucked away in an alcove on the side of the Palace, Marcellus knew it to be well tended by Sarah Heap, as all of the little gardens at the Palace were. It was a far cry from what it once had been when his mother, Etheldreda, had been Queen. Tonight, despite the cold weather, the garden was resplendent. The grass beneath his feet was dusted with a delicate layer of freshly-fallen snow, so far untrodden by human feet. Bushes sporting all sorts of flowers of dark red to pure white to soft pink bordered the area, no doubt Charmed to be in better condition than they might have been otherwise for the occasion, and a simple wooden bench with an arched back and intricately carved armrests was positioned across from the door from which he had exited moments before. Fairy lights were strung throughout the bushes, illuminating everything and giving the garden a dreamy haze that reminded Marcellus of a scene from some fairy-tale.  
Marcellus crossed to the bench, brushed off some ice from the seat, and sat down. It really was quite chilly out here, he thought, but he didn't want to rejoin the party just yet. After the stuffy, crowded, loud, chaotic world inside the Palace, the frigid air felt good as it entered his lungs and helped to clear his head.   
He was enjoying the moment of peace when the door opened. A figure clad in purple stepped into the garden and peered around. "It's beautiful out here."  
"Marcia," Marcellus said, not quite sure how he felt upon being interrupted during the only quiet moment he'd had all night.   
She turned and smiled at him, and suddenly, he couldn't bring himself to mind after all. He found her quite beautiful as she stood there, still in uniform but with her hair pulled back, sporting a silver headband and matching teardrop earrings, her face illuminated by the fairy lights and by some otherworldly light within that he never ceased to marvel at.  
"There you are," she said briskly. "I saw you leave the ballroom and was worried."   
He gawked at her. Worried? About him?  
She rubbed her hands together. "Why are you out here anyway? Marcellus, it's freezing. You should come inside before you catch some blasted cold."  
"Not just yet," he said. "I needed some air."  
She nodded, accepting this, and sat down beside him. For some reason, it hit him what a companionable action this was. It was true that he and the ExtraOrdinary Wizard had become much closer since their days of bickering; they were closer even than the day they decided to put their differences aside for the sake of working together for the Castle. He would even go so far as to call Marcia a friend, but in moments like this, he couldn't deny that there was so much more to his feelings for her than mere friendship. Something about the way the light made her eyes sparkle and her skin look so soft had him catching his breath in a way he dared not dwell too much on.  
Marcia was muttering something. "It's a Warming Charm," she said at his questioning look. "I should teach it to you, seeing as you are foolish enough to come outside in such cold temperatures." She smiled then, just a little, so Marcellus knew she was only teasing.  
"I suppose that could be beneficial," he agreed. "Do you happen to have the Charm on you?"  
"No," she said. "It's a simple Charm, and it clutters up my belt, so I don't bother carrying it around."  
"Ah."   
He did rather wish she kept it on her at that moment. The cold was bitter, its icy teeth nipping at his exposed face and hands.   
Marcia reached into her pocket and handed over a pair of purple woolen gloves. He stared at them dubiously for a second, then smiled and slipped them on. They were a little tight around the fingers, but he didn't mind. "Thank you."   
She nodded and leaned back against the bench. "I can't wait to get out of these damned shoes," she groaned.   
"I thought you loved those damned shoes."  
"I do. But," she grinned a little uncharacteristically, "I can't stand them when I'm on my feet all night. They're killing me. I can't imagine yours are much better. How many times have you tripped tonight?"  
"None at all, thank you," he protested. "Unlike you. I saw you nearly fall on top of Simon by the punch bowl."  
"It was spiked, I swear!"  
"Marcia, I promise you, it wasn't spiked enough to cause that display."  
She gave him a mock glare. "Wouldn't you know about the punch," she grumbled.   
He grinned and shook his head. They fell into a comfortable silence. Marcellus cast furtive, admiring glances at Marcia when he assumed she wouldn't see.   
Why couldn't he keep his eyes off of her tonight?   
"We should probably get inside," he said suddenly. Despite how nice it was to be near Marcia, it was getting a bit too cold for his liking.   
"We should," Marcia agreed. "Septimus probably saw me follow you out."  
Neither moved. They fell into another silence. Despite his discomfort, Marcellus didn't want the moment to end.  
Marcia tapped her pointy, python clad toe in time with the music from inside the Palace. "I like this song," she murmured.  
Marcellus listened. It was a slow piece, piano and guitar weaving together in an almost romantic ballad with a more modern voice singing over it all. His heart lurched as a thought popped into his head. He bit his lip, pondering it, before he threw caution to the wind. "Would you like to dance with me, Marcia?"  
"Out here?"  
"Yes." He rose to his feet and extended a hand to help her up. They shared a look, and in that long, tense moment, he knew that, whatever she chose, things would be different between them from then on.  
She accepted his hand and climbed to her feet. He twined his gloved fingers with hers and pulled her close, resting his other hand on her waist. There, in the gently lit Palace garden, with music from within the Palace to guide them, they swayed slowly together, content and alive in each other's presence.  
Suddenly, Marcia pulled him closer and looked up into his eyes. For one crazy second, he couldn't think of anything but how dearly he hoped she wasn't Listening for his heartbeat, for surely she would know how he felt by the way it pounded in that moment.   
"I think it's snowing again."  
They paused in their movements to peer up at the sky. Indeed, she was right: tiny snowflakes fell from the sky with increasing frequency. A few landed in her hair and quickly melted, and others caught in her eyelashes. She blinked them away and smiled.   
"Wonders never cease," she murmured. "I've been at the Castle for three decades, and yet I still find snow so beautiful when I take the time to admire it."  
He made a sound of agreement and pulled her closer again. She laid her head on his shoulder with a sigh. He thought that maybe they should go inside, but then he decided that this moment was infinitely more important to him than being warm and dry.  
They danced for what could have been twenty seconds or ten minutes, his body leading them automatically through the steps that had been drilled into him five hundred years before by his mother. Marcellus felt a brief stab of gratitude — an odd feeling where his mother was concerned — that Etheldreda had put him through so many dance classes, hell-bent upon raising the perfect aristocrat.  
"Marcellus," she whispered. "I—er—"   
She looked up at him, and their eyes locked for a long, intimate moment. She leaned her forehead against his, and suddenly, the entire world disappeared until it was just them alone together with his arm around her waist, holding her to him, and her arm around his neck, and their hands still firmly locked. The feelings he had tried so hard to suppress for so long were bubbling up inside of him, and he wasn't sure he could hide them anymore.  
He wasn't sure who moved first, but suddenly they were kissing. All of the pent up feelings he had harbored for her came rushing out. Kissing her was better than anything he had ever felt. It was amazing, it was bliss, it was magical... She was everything — the sun and moon and stars and everything in between. Nothing else mattered to him in that moment than her and her warmth and her lips against his and the feel of her in his in arms at long, long last.  
They parted and touched foreheads again, cold noses brushing, breathing the same air.   
"How long?" he whispered hoarsely, not daring to finish the question in fear that no, maybe she didn't feel anything for him after all and he'd gotten it all wrong and suddenly she would jump away and say it had all been some accident—   
"A couple years I think. You?" She twined her arms around his neck.  
Relief blossomed in his chest, warm and sweet as the spring. "I don't know." He brushed his lips along hers again and felt her shiver for a reason altogether different from the cold. "I guess I've always felt this way for you." The answer wasn't his usual eloquence, but Marcellus knew he was nothing of the sort at that moment.  
They kissed languidly for what could have been two minutes or half an hour — what did time matter to Marcellus, anyway, when he had this woman so close to him?  
Finally, though, they parted reluctantly. "We should really go in," she whispered, her lips still just grazing his as she spoke. "It wouldn't do for me to miss my Apprentice's entire birthday party because I'm kissing an Alchemist out in the Palace gardens."  
"Right," Marcellus said. A nervous anticipation coiled in his stomach. He kissed her cheek one last time and extricated himself from the warmth of her arms.  
They looked at each other for a long time, shy smiles playing across both of their faces, neither wanting the moment to end.   
"Well..." he murmured.  
"Right. I'll, er, see you inside then."  
He nodded, and she turned and strode back off into the Palace, the door closing quietly behind her.   
He stared after her, thoughts whirling. Letting out a shaky breath, he ran a hand through his hair. He really should rejoin the party.   
The snow fell faster yet. Despite the cold, the thought of what had just happened was a warm weight in his chest that, he suspected, would stay with him for quite some time. With high hopes for the future, he slipped back into the Palace.


End file.
